The Rhine
by Dny Schr-Mlln Shtlnd
Summary: Quickly delve into The Rhine where life seems to be easier. Time stops as these two friends continue to entangle themselves into each other's lives. DG Challenge Fic. Sorry its so short.


The music was low, sensual. The vivacious '20s sound filled the large bar from the small stage near the dance floor. Ginny had fallen in love with the _Rhine_ from the first moment she'd stumbled inside. The music was easy, the drinks were smooth and the atmosphere was intoxicating. When she was here, she felt less like Ginny and more like Ginevra. Ginny had snuck butterbeers with her older brothers behind the broomshed. Here, Ginevra sipped on a glass of sweet red wine.

Several couples began to move against each other as the music shifted into a modern tango. The sensual movements of the dancers as they slid against each other filled the room with an electricity. Sexual tension crackled in the air like a firework, its energy inescapable for any of the _Rhine's_ patrons.

The low, bewitched lighting and rough furnishings created an immediately intimate atmosphere, even for platonic gatherings.

Ö

"Please Malfoy, you are trouble," she laughed to her partner, her handing resting on his thigh for half a second as she continued to laugh. They had become friend-like in the eight months since she'd left Harry.

"Is that going to be a problem?" he smirked over the top of his scotch.

He was contagious, he always was. She felt the corners of her lips pulling up in spite of her just as they always did.

"I don't know," she whispered, rising out of her seat. Her voice was low as she bent slightly, her lips seductively close to his ear: "Do you feel like getting in trouble?"

Draco watched with dark eyes as she glided across the dance floor into a strangers arms. Ginevra Weasley had a hold on him. She was a charismatic, beautiful, confident woman. A mate during the day, someone he could pull childish pranks with in Diagon Alley on their lunch breaks. At night though, she was dynamite. She had helped him score—not that he needed the help, he amended— numerous witches, she was an excellent wing man.

Lately, he had become more interested in watching her when they went out rather than the beautiful young woman who would gladly warm his bed. Potter had never deserved such a cataclysmic woman. She was a species of truly raw passion.

He watched as she moved in the arms of this strange man. An animalistic instinct swelled in his chest the closer they got to one another. The clingly black material of her dress tied around her neck and revealed the smooth, pale skin of her back. Her fiery hair was fighting the pins she'd attempted to restrain it with and flowing across her shoulder in soft curls.

Within moments he was sliding between the couple, effectively removing the stranger from the situation and pulling her against his body. Draco laced his fingers through her hair as his other hand found hers. They began to move in time to the music without missing a step. The scent of the shampoo she used filled his senses as he leaned in close to her, the top of her head just reaching his nose.

"You told me you couldn't dance," she smiled, the blood red of her lips in a smooth line.

"I told you I _didn't _dance. There's a difference."

"Inflection?"

In smooth movement she dropped in a dip.

"The world exists because of inflection and interpretation."

Ö

He was close enough that she could see the virtually seamless scar running over the edge of his jaw. It was the bane of his existence, but she loved the masculinely humanizing quality it had. She loved everything about him. His secrets, his faults; the way he supported all of her crazy antics, like throwing popcorn in a muggle theatre or smoke bombing Diagon Alley. Mostly, she loved his eyes. Windows, mirrors, portals.

Whatever they were, they bore into hers now like dying embers, dark and electric. Like the last warmth of a fire as a cold breeze blows through you.

Twirling beneath his arm, she refused to break contact with his smouldering gaze.

"And how would you interpret this?" she questioned.

"Precarious."

"I could live with precarious," she smiled, again just feeling the edges of her lips creep up.

"I thought I was trouble?"

"I think its good."

Ö

Bunh, duh. (Listen to the song, it'll make sense)

A painstakingly worked on piece for Aerileigh's Soundtrack Challenge in the DG Forum, if you don't know about the Forum check it out for other great D/G fics. Who didn't see that coming?


End file.
